


I took you by the hand

by cornishpixieprincess



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Modern AU, PWP, Photography, a little bit piningjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornishpixieprincess/pseuds/cornishpixieprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is in need of money and when Jehan mentions a friend in need of a model for her work ... well its a good enough way to make money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I took you by the hand

She knows that she’s staring, but really she can’t help it. When Jehan had mentioned a friend in need of some money, Jehan hadn’t told her how much the friend in question looked like a goddess. However as Grantaire continues to stare at the girl, she can see how utterly human she looks as well. 

The girl, Enjolras she had said, is currently flicking through some of Grantaire’s sketchbooks, having asked to see some of her work before they began. She had shrugged in reply, not trusting herself to speak, and using the time to ‘set up’. Which really was just an excuse to stare. 

Enjolras was quiet whilst flicking through the pages, occasionally making small sounds of agreement, disapproval, or merely interest.

“The revolution?” She asks suddenly. Looking at Grantaire with wide blue eyes, which hold a small amount of excitement, perhaps a chance to discuss their political views, maybe a new person to recruit to the cause.

Grantaire smiled “A group of idiots who thought that they could change the world.” She replied. 

“They changed history!” Enjolras starts.

“And they failed to improve their situation.”

“I...” Enjolras took a breath. “You’re very cynical about it.”

“That would be because I am a cynic.” Grantaire says simply. “And you, like Jehan, are an idealist.”

“And what’s wrong with that!” She states indignantly.

“I could go on forever about the downfalls of idealism, however I do actually want to get something done, and if I started you’d spend the whole time arguing back at me.”  
Enjolras huffs in agreement.

“Look, all I want to do is take some photographs, something that I can work from later. Is that okay?” Grantaire asks, the silence between them becoming too long and making them both more and more uncomfortable. 

“Is that all?”

“Yep, that’s pretty much it.”

“Okay then.” Enjolras pauses. “What do I do?” She says biting her lip and looking around the room. 

“I’m not sure yet, I need to ask one question though ... how averse are you to being naked?”

Grantaire finds that asking the question amuses her more than it should, especially when the girls cheeks turn softly pink, however she holds Grantaire’s gaze.

“It depends. Will I be covered by anything?”

Grantaire’s smile turns into a smirk. She doesn’t reply, instead reaches down into the bag she brought with her, and pulls out a large bundle of fabric, which she throws at Enjolras. Enjolras looks at the bundle.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a patriot.” Enjolras says looking at the flag in her hands. 

“I’m not.” She replies. “But it does make a very good theme.” 

A quick glace from Enjolras before she turns around and drops the fabric on the bed, before peeling off her grey t-shirt (Grantaire’s breath definitely doesn’t hitch when she see’s that the girl isn’t wearing a bra) and sliding out of her jeans and underwear. If she couldn’t stop staring at this girl before, she was transfixed now. Enjolras looks over her shoulder and smiles innocently, and damn her. Damn her to hell, Grantaire thinks. She knows exactly how beautiful she is. 

She would have said Enjolras’s confidence is in subjects like politics, and opinions and changes (at least from what she’d heard from Jehan), but in this second it becomes very clear to Grantaire, that she was confident in many areas in life, this being one of them. The t-shirt and jeans are deceiving. She decides to make a mental note of that for future reference. 

The tension that had been there before is now replaced with an entirely different kind of tension, and Grantaire really needs to stop staring. Why did she ask Jehan is he knew anyone willing to model for her? Why didn’t he ask Cosette, then this wouldn’t have been an issue. But no, she thought that Jehan may know some students in need of money, and asked him. 

And this is what she gets for it, this remarkably human goddess. She’s thin, a little unnaturally thin, with pale skin, and golden hair, which is styled simply, parting in the middle, and yet softly curls its way down her shoulders and back in a way that could only be natural. Nothing about this girl looks artificial or fake, no make up, no jewellery save a single ring on her left hand, woven in a Celtic pattern. Her bones protrude slightly, however not uncomfortably. But her eyes are by far Grantaire’s favourite, wide, curious, deceptively innocent, and blue. So far. She’s sure that there is even more to Enjolras’s eyes than what she’s already seen in them. 

Meanwhile Enjolras has picked up the flag and is holding it to her chest. She decides to sit on the bed whilst she waits for Grantaire to set up camera. She looks at the room. The walls are faded, the furniture classically French, simple yet with small intricate designs. Nothing is bright and colourful; however it’s typical room in Paris, which she supposes is what Grantaire wanted. The wall opposite her is mostly window, and the curtains are open. She’d feel uncomfortable with it, however the room is on one of the top floors of the hotel that they were at, and the hotel was surrounded by buildings, none of which looked occupied, in the late afternoon. 

“Are you ready?” Grantaire asks. And Enjolras looks at her. Her dark hair is pulled into a messy bun, which curls are escaping from, one in particular framing her face. She’s dressed comfortably in a large jumper and tight jeans. Her left wrist has several woven bracelets on, along with hair bobbles, and various other bands and jewellery, she also has several piercings in her ears. Enjolras won’t deny that all of it suits her incredibly well. She’d holding a camera, and looking at her, in that challenging manner, as she has several times. Almost like she’s testing her, so of course, Enjolras will test right back.

“Whenever you are.” She replies nonchalantly. 

“Alright then. Bring your legs up, so that your knees are in the air.” She says softly, yet professionally. “Yes, like that.” She pauses as she looks through the lens. “Don’t hold the flag so tightly.” Pause. “Look out the window the way you were a minute ago.” Longer pause. “You don’t have to stay completely still, you are allowed to move a little, just keep the basic position. It won’t look natural if you stay still.” She smiles a little. “May I?” She then asks uncertainly, reaching slightly towards her. 

“Of course. You’re the artist.” She smiles properly at that. Before reaching to move her hair, to one side. 

Grantaire takes more than enough photos’ of Enjolras in various positions, and in various places around the room. More than enough to work with, she may forgive Jehan for sending her this angel, as she’s perfect for what she needs. However she enjoys being able to mold Enjolras a little too much. Touching her hair half seems like an excuse just to run her fingers through it. But Enjolras would have complained by now if she had a problem with it (as a matter of fact Enjolras tries not to make any noise that would count as inappropriate, when Grantaire plays with her hair). 

They talk as they work. For example at one point Grantaire asks if Enjolras has an aversion to smoking, and when she says no, Enjolras smoking is incorporating into the theme. 

They also talk about their lives, not commenting on how their views of the world differ completely, but learning how the other see’s the world. They come close to arguing several  
times, but every time, they manage to steer the conversation back to what they’re doing.

 

Enjolras is stood facing the window, holding the sheet to her chest. “How did you get into all of this then?” She asks. 

“It’s simply really. Art’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. So I studied it at school, and then at university among doing other things like drinking and having a lot of sex with people, and realising that I am completely and utterly gay.” Enjolras laughed at her casualness and the way she told the story, as if it weren’t important. “And then tried to make my way out here. Of course you either get money or you don’t so I ended up doing all sorts of jobs to pay for rent and such, and art became a hobby. Luckily for me, a friend of mine’s father owns a gallery and she recommended that they show my work. Long story short, some of it sold, for a lot more than I was expecting, so I can now spend my days doing what I like. Which usually involves wine and a paintbrush.”

They’re both quiet for a time before Grantaire speaks again. “What about you? How did a girl like you, end up here?”

“A girl like me?” Enjolras repeats, narrowing her eyes playfully. 

“You know, idealistic, hopeful about her own future, prospects and jobs queued up, stubborn as hell, ect.”

“I need the money.”

“Is that all?” When Enjolras doesn’t reply. “Well that’s boring. But why this? Why not an actual job?”

“I don’t have time for one. Also I’m far to rebellious to do anything normal which confines you to the patriarchal norms of society. Most people are too scared that I’ll get arrested for protesting, and won’t hire me.”

“So what does that mean for your future?” Grantaire asks, surprised by the answer she’d just received, however not knowing what she had expected. 

“That I’ll probably end up in jail ... that or be homeless on the streets because I can’t get a real job.” She laughs a little, but there’s tension underneath. 

“Well if these paintings sell, you can do this for me again.” Grantaire says touching the hand holding the flag, a silent request for her to relax a little. 

“And if they don’t?”

“I’ll be disappointed, and won’t have an excuse to see you again.”

“Who says I want to do this again? What if I’ve hated every second of this?” She replies teasingly.

“That’s a shame, you do look absolutely beautiful in that flag.”

“Hmmm. I’m not sure about it anymore.” She looks down at herself, pretending to deliberate. “You know, I think I prefer without it.” She says dropping the flag on the floor and walking away from the window. 

Grantaire tries to do something other than stare, but she can’t. Enjolras, who is sat on the bed at this point looks at her. When she shows no signs of stopping Enjolras stands up and takes the camera out of her hands, and sets it on the desk before moving back to Grantaire. She pulls off the jumper, revealing a vest top underneath, showing the top of the black lace of her bra. Enjolras runs a finger along it before gently kissing Grantaire. 

She pulls away slightly. “We ...” Grantaire starts, before Enjolras interrupts. “You have wanted this the whole time that I’ve been here. And I want it too.” 

“How long?” Grantaire breathes. Enjolras smiles slightly before replying “I’m not sure, but I want it.”

“Jehan is trying to kill me” She whispers more to herself than anyone else. 

“Me too.” Agrees Enjolras, taking Grantaire’s hair out of its messy bun. As soon as the hair is free Enjolras’s fingers are buried in it and pulling Grantaire’s lips to her own. 

Grantaire’s arm is around her waist pulling her closer her other hand in Enjolras’s hair pulling it, causing her to moan and tilt her head back exposing her neck, which she promptly begins to kiss, whilst Enjolras attempts to undo her jeans. 

“Why are you wearing so much clothing?” She complains, in between moans. 

“I’m not the one who readily stripped.” Is murmured against her neck in reply. 

Enjolras ignores the response, and continues to work at removing Grantaire’s clothes. Eventually she is successful enough to have gotten down to her underwear, at which point they’re both lying on the bed. She sits up from where she had pushed Grantaire down and was straddling her. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she removes her bra, and kissed each breast, before rubbing her fingers over her clit, through the fabric of her underwear. Grantaire gasps so she does it again, and again, and again, enjoying the sound far too much. Enjolras then pulls off the underwear and kisses Grantaire, who can only moan in her mouth, before sliding one finger inside of her. Grantaire’s back arches at the pleasure. Enjolras adds another finger and slowly moves in and out enjoying the way Grantaire’s body responds to her. 

“Enjolras.” She moans again and again becoming more and more desperate. She comes with a cut off shout of her name. 

Enjolras, smiling kisses Grantaire gently until Grantaire suddenly flips them so that Enjolras is lying on the bed and Grantaire is on top of her. Grantaire works her way down Enjolras’s body kissing every dip and every curve, and ends up kissing her way up her thighs before licking her clit, causing Enjolras moan loudly. Grantaire smirks before licking her again. She explores the whole of Enjolras moving agonisingly slowly, kissing her inner thighs, sucking a mark onto her hip bone, trailing kisses up and down her torso, driving Enjolras mas, as punishment for Enjolras being a fucking tease, and Enjolras is begging her to move faster, and it’s a beautiful sound, but the best sound is Enjolras’s scream as she comes, combined with the way she writhes on the bed, her hips held down by Grantaire. 

Grantaire moves back up the bed, and lies next to Enjolras for a while. 

“This is a one-time only thing?” Enjolras asks, after a while in the growing darkness of the room. 

“Of course. Look at it as casual sex if you want.”

“I will.” Comes the reply. “Although, if it was only casual, why were you saying my name. Because, I’m sure that that isn't part of it.”

“Does it matter?” Grantaire asks with an air of annoyance. Enjolras doesn’t need to know how Grantaire feels. How she’s felt since this afternoon when Enjolras first came into the room. Because it’s becoming clearer and clearer to her with every second that she’s with Enjolras, that she feels something beyond casualness. 

“I don’t know, you tell me.” 

“I thought that this was meant to be casual. Why do you care?”

“Because I want to know of this really is just sex or not.” Enjolras says raising her voice.

“I want to know why it matters.”

“It doesn't I just want to know!” 

“Well if it doesn't matter what’s keeping you here? Why don’t you take the money and go?”

“Maybe I will.” She says standing up and pulling on her clothes, trying and failing not to get tangled up, which makes her more frustrated than she already is. 

“Fine.”

“Fuck you!”

“I just did.” She shouts at her as Enjolras grabs the envelope that her money is in and walks out the door slamming it behind her. 

 

Enjolras is in a bad mood for weeks afterwards. She doesn't tell anyone that she had sex with Grantaire, just that they ended up arguing about something. Jehan suspects that there’s more to it, and Enjolras wonders what Grantaire told him.

She throws herself back into her activist work in order to keep her mind off Grantaire.  
It's ridiculous, she knew the girl for one day, it's ridiculous that she cannot stop thinking about her. She won’t deny that the sex was good, and what little time they had spent together had actually been enjoyable apart from the arguement (although even the arguement wasn't bad because no-one would ever dare to argue with enjolras anymore).

But she should not have feelings like this. She should not be listening to Jehan’s conversations to hear Grantaire’s name. She shouldn’t blush whenever she thinks about Grantaire. She shouldn't want Grantaire, it should have been casual ... except that it wasn’t and she does. Enjolras finally admits to herself, and only to herself, that she wants Grantaire more than anything, and it’s a ridiculous thing for her to want, but she can’t regret wanting the artist. Not at all.

However more time passes and Enjolras doesn't see or hear directly from Grantaire, and she comes to accept that life is moving on, and she has to leave it alone, as much as she hates to do it. 

She continues with her life as normally as possible, staying impossibly busy, and doing more than work than is healthy as usual. 

The night that Jehan walks into her room, and without saying a word, walks over to her wardrobe, pulls out a dress and throws it at her, comes as something as a shock to her. 

“We’re going out.” He announces, smiling at her. 

“Jehan ...” She already knows that she’s fighting a losing battle, it’s nearly impossible to deny Jehan anything that he wants, and doing so makes her feel incredibly guilty.

“No arguments, we’re going out, so get changed and stop working.” 

“I hate you.” She mutters half-heartedly. Jehan merely kisses her gently on the cheek in reply. “You’re wearing a suit!” She complains. 

“Get dressed Enjolras. Were leaving in ten minutes.” He says and walks out of the room. 

Enjolras concedes defeat, too tired to argue and picks up the long black dress that Jehan had thrown at her. It’s possibly the most formal thing that she owns, and she only wears it when absolutely necessary. 

It isn’t to say that she doesn’t wear dresses, more that she wears comfortable and practical clothes. 

She pulls on the dress, takes her hair out of the bun that she’d pulled it into to keep it out of her face whilst she worked, and goes to the living room where Jehan is waiting for her. 

Jehan takes her to the art gallery, and Enjolras is very confused as Jehan knows that she knows nothing about art. However once she is inside and she sees the artist’s name, she is no longer confused, instead she tucks her arm through Jehan’s and walks around the exhibition.

“It’s the opening night.” Jehan whispers to her, which explains the crowds of finely dressed people. 

“I didn’t know her work was this popular.” Enjolras murmurs. 

“R likes to keep a low profile. Doesn’t like the attention particularly.”

Grantaire has truly exploited every inch of the photos, manipulating them into something incredible. In some of them Enjolras cannot tell that it’s her that has been painted. Yet in others it’s so strikingly obvious that people are doing double takes when the pass her. 

Once they’d walked around the entire exhibition Enjolras stands and watches people reactions to the works, trying to understand what they see when they look at them (rather than a flurry of memories twisted into something unreal and beautiful, yet having a sense of reality about them). It’s as she’s looking around the gallery, that she happens to see a familiar head of dark hair, and glinting eyes watching her from a balcony. Grantaire, dressed in a dark green, short dress, unruly head of curls pulled upwards into a professional looking style, holding a drink, is smirking at her. She licks her lips before turning and disappearing out of sight on the balcony. 

Enjolras can’t quite work out how she feels about this brief encounter with Grantaire. Had she expected more? No. It was a one night stand. Or so she tries to pretend. It was nothing but sex, followed by a disagreement. Nothing more. She was the one who left after all, she could have stayed. But she didn’t and there’s obviously a reason for that. That’s what she’s been telling herself for months, and damn it! She hates Grantaire for making her feel like this. She shouldn’t be allowed to be so casual about it, when Enjolras can’t. 

She moves quickly through the crowd, determination masking her disappointment, finding Jehan and saying that she wants to leave. She doesn’t want to be here anymore. She’s too angry, and sad and disappointed and she hates it. She finds Jehan stood by the painting, based one of the photo’s of her at the window. She doesn’t want to look at it. 

“Jehan, can we go please.” She asks.

“Are you okay E?”

“I’m fine ... just ... I need to go home now. Okay?”

“Of course.”

“Leaving again Enjolras.” A new voice chimes, and Enjolras turns to see the girl in green stood behind her. Enjolras tries very hard not to notice how pretty she looks or how she draws many eyes in the room. 

“Yes actually.” She says looking anywhere but Grantaire. 

“No hello or I like your work Grantaire? Wow. I’m a little bit offended as you are the muse for this.” 

“I never said I didn’t like it.” She shoots back, trying to sound as casual as Grantaire. 

“Hmmm.” Grantaire replies, and then shrugs. 

“It’s beautiful.” She adds quietly. 

Grantaire smiles then, her eyes shining more, and Enjolras has completely forgotten how blue her eyes are. 

“You really think so?” She replies. 

“Yes.” Grantaire’s face lights up. “But then I know absolutely nothing about art.” She says leaning forwards slightly as if sharing a private joke. And Grantaire laughs joyously, shaking her head at Enjolras. 

“Come on; let’s go somewhere a little less crowded.” Grantaire says, and takes her hand, without waiting for a reply pulling her up stairs and onto the balcony that she had been stood on previously, and then through some doors and outside into the cool air. 

Once they’re outside Grantaire pulls out a box of cigarettes and offers one to Enjolras. 

“We’ve left Jehan.” Enjolras points out as Grantaire light hers, and passes the lighter to Enjolras. 

“He’ll be fine. He likes art remember.”

“He likes poetry more.”

“He likes Courfeyrac more.” She parries. 

“Is that where he’s been?”

“Where have you been? It’s exceedingly obvious.”

“Busy.” Enjolras replies. 

“I’m sure you have been. You seem like you usually are.”

“You have no idea.” She deadpans. 

“I guess not considering i’ve spent most of my time painting and wondering why the fuck would you not get out of my head.” Enjolras gapes at her. “At first I blamed the fact that you were my stimulus, but then I realised that this had never happened before.” She continues when Enjolras shows no sign of replying to her blunt confession. I then spent weeks wondering if I should ask Jehan to give me your number or something, but then it would be obvious that we’d done a little bit more than take photographs and Jehan wouldn’t buy into any story that I gave him otherwise. To be honest I think he already knows.”

“I think that he does. And don’t worry. You’ve spent just as long tormenting me. Do you know how difficult it is to work, when all you can think about is a one night stand and feeling ridiculous because I barely even know who you are.”

“Don’t you? I would have said I’m a pretty open book.”

“And books have secrets Grantaire. Histories and meanings buried inside them. You should know that.”

“I do.”

“And that’s what I want to know. Everything about you.”

“I wouldn’t.” She says frowning. 

“Well that would be for me to decide.”

“What if I didn’t want to tell you.” She’s staring at Enjolras, almost as if she isn’t sure if she’s real or not. 

“What if I were to persuade you?” She replies, in a low voice, and then watches as Grantaire processes her words, and turns faintly pink. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn?”

“Nearly every day of my life.” She says smirking. 

Grantaire kisses her then. How can she not? This girl wants her and she wants this girl. So she kisses her, winding a hand into her hair, and pulling it backwards only to hear her gasp in response, and gain access to her neck. All too soon for both of them Grantaire’s lips leave her neck. 

“Do you know, I think that you’re right. Leaving is an excellent idea.” She says hurriedly, and grabs Enjolras’s hand again. Not long later they’re a tangled mess of limbs in Enjolras’s bed.

**Author's Note:**

> So i have only written porn once before so I apologize.  
> I also know nothing about art galleries, so again sorry.  
> However thanks for reading and if your wish to find me i'm known as rosesette on tumblr.


End file.
